


Undercover

by sg_fic



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: M/M, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, X2: X-Men United (2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:01:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7494843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_fic/pseuds/sg_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Logan are sent to investigate the disappearance of five young mutants. Post X-2</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on some of my favorite F/K and S/H undercover fanfictions, because every fandom needs a healthy dose of undercover in a gay bar :D

 

The thing about healing factor and beer was that it never got to his head, but still made him pee like a race horse—felt like he's been standing there for a short eternity, braced with one hand against the wall because it actually looked clean enough to touch.

He was used to men's room which attacked his heightened senses with piss that smelled two thousand years old, dirty walls covered with handwritten quips and sodden cigarette butts unraveling in the toilet bowls.

Not this place.

Much like the rest of the club, the men's was sexed up to the extreme. Free condoms were offered to them in the cloakroom, given to them with their drinks, and in here laid out in colorful piles on the mirrors shelves.

An empty wrapper was discarded by his feet and Logan was doing his best to blot out the muffled moans coming from one of the stalls, the smell of pheromones and jizz that hung heavy in the air. 

Laminated above each urinal was a sex tip sponsored by Durex, things like _'no glove no love', 'use lube', 'explore techniques',_ and _'masturbate together'._ He was stuck with _'know your limits',_ the fine print reading _'Sex isn't about endurance. If a partner is too big for you, don't feel obliged to take it all. Go on top during sex, and use your hand during oral to control the depth of penetration'._

He wondered which one Cyke ended up staring at when he went earlier, and whether he looked startled for a second before he remembered where he was, just like he did when they took away his coat and offered him an _'extra lubricated condom'_ in return.

 _'No need'_ Scott mumbled, high cheekbones darkening. It had won him reproaching glares and raised eyebrows from the cloakroom staff—which was already more attention than they were supposed to draw to themselves, so Logan pressed a flat hand to the small of Scott's back and supplied _'We're going steady.'_ The staff scattered, and the guy still holding out the condom gave Scott an appreciative once-over, then shot Logan a sharp look of admiration for luring such a gorgeous guy into his bed.

_'Just lube then?'_

_'Thanks,'_ Logan took the small sachet the man was offering.    

This time Scott had kept his pretty face carefully blank.

Logan shook his head. He had to admit that this was their wackiest mission yet, being carried by a tornado to Miss Liberty's torch included. 

It happened so fast too, the black SUV arriving at the mansion two days ago, armed agents of S.H.I.E.L.D rushing out of it to scan the grounds as if the president himself was about to step out of the armored Chevrolet.

Instead, two guys walked out; a ridiculously fit and tall blonde Logan immediately felt like punching in the face, and an older man looking so solemn and deadly, so impossible to read, that Logan wanted nothing to do with him, not now—not ever…

…and yet, when his dark, good eye landed on him, Logan had no doubt in mind that he was the reason the man was there.

"Xavier, McCoy," Nicolas J. Fury greeted as they all gathered in the professor's office, "Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D" he introduced himself to the rest.

"Director. I'm—"

"Ororo Munroe, of course." Fury supplied and Storm's mouth closed with a soft clack. His gaze then travelled around Xavier's desk "And you must be Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers and… _Logan."_ There was mischief in the dark eye, as if the man was only using that name to appease him and Logan frowned in dismay, but before he could say anything Fury went on,

"You all know the Captain, of course."

He didn't know him, but he also didn't care. Seeing the angry gazes that he and Summers were exchanging was far more interesting... wonder what the human Ken did to earn the stoic mask that until not too long ago was reserved for Logan alone.  

 _"…Steve."_ Fury warned and the blonde looked away. A long silence followed until Fury inhaled and exhaled loudly,

"I know that the X-Men and the Avengers don't always see eye to eye," he told Scott, then turned his attention to Xavier, "and you know that I steer clear of mutant affairs whenever I can afford to,"

 _"Then keep up the good work."_ Scott said through greeted teeth, but Charles signaled him to back off and the X-Men field leader leaned back into his chair, jaw set tight.

"I intend to, Scott. This is a one off."

Fury drew out a chair and sat down while 'Steve' kept on standing by the door like a god damn body guard. Hell, maybe he was—Logan didn't miss the way Cyke wore civilian clothes and a combat visor, or just how upright Ororo sat in her chair, her hands balled into fists.

"As a matter of fact I'm here to help you. You are currently working on a case, am I right?"

Scott's jaw only tightened. Ro pursed her lips. It was Xavier who supplied,  

"In deed we are."

"Downtown New York? Five missing teenagers?"

"Five missing mutants, yes."

"What do you have?"

Even Hank—ever the diplomat, looked hesitant, but Wheels didn't blink. "Not much I'm afraid. They're all off Cerebro's map."

"…You think they're dead."

"I'm afraid so." The grey eyes glistened, betraying the older man's pain.

"That's… I hope you're wrong." Fury said, grim. "Alexander Pierce Jr. is one of the missing boys see, the order came directly from S.H.I.E.L.D's senior officials so we started sniffing around. They all disappeared from the same place, did you know that?"

"I did not. I sent out two teams but the parents were less than cooperative; seemed they preferred a dead, homo-sapiens son to a live, mutant one."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"'Course you are, you have orders from high above." Ororo mocked and Fury turned to give her a hard glare,

"I know mutant lives aren't bothering the NYPD as much as they should Miss Munroe, but you do realize you're barking up the wrong tree? S.H.I.E.L.D protects _every_ living being under its jurisdiction, regardless of their species."

"—Nick, Ororo. Five lives may have been lost, possibly more if we don't hurry. I suggest we stick to the facts right now." Charles said in his calming, persuasive voice and both nodded silently.

"Tell us where."

"One of the local nightclubs. We have CCTV images of them getting in, but never coming out."

"Oh, dear. Did you report your findings—" Hank started but Fury cut him short,

"I didn't do anything; I don't want the police involved. If these kids are still alive then having cops turn up at the scene may cause their attackers to do something rash. No, I want two undercover insiders in there—only I can't send two Avengers into a mutant hangout and expect things to go smoothly."  

"Is that where we come in?" Ro asked, but Fury didn't look her way… he was looking at Logan.

"What I _could_ use is a mutant with heightened senses prowling the place, see what he can find—"

"—you want me to go have some beers in a seedy club and listen to gossip?" Logan mocked in disbelief—the famous S.H.E.I.L.D and this was the best they could come up with?

"No, I want you _and a fellow X-Man_ to have some beers in a seedy club and listen to gossip. It's a pick-up joint, if you go by yourself you'll be too busy shooing off strangers. Besides, we still don't know what we're dealing with here—you're not going in without backup.

"I'll go with Logan." Storm said, and now Fury did turn her way, his good eye twinkling in amusement.

"It's not _that_ kind of place, my dear."

"…what do you mean?"

"I mean these sorry excuses for parents preferred a dead, _straight,_ homo-sapien son… over a gay, mutant one."

And he slowly, deliberately, shifted his gaze over to Scott.

"You can't be serious." Scott almost laughed, but Fury didn't blink and his smile quickly crumbled.

"I'm not doing this!"

"Bigot much, Summers?" Steve challenged from his spot by the door, then raised his hands in a half assed apology when Fury turned to scowl at him.

 _"No."_ Scott glared at the Captain then turned back to Fury "You think the two of us would have _any_ credibility?" the disbelief in his voice made it clear that it wasn't a question.

"Why the hell not?" It was Logan's turn to take offence, because while they weren't bffs by any means, he and Summers actually got along since Jean's death. Both grieving and withdrawn they finally found common grounds with each other. Said grounds were composed of late night solemn drinking and Danger Room sessions, but it was a start, and even taking orders from the guy during missions had become bearable—so why the hell wouldn't he want to pair up with him?

Scott froze solid. Slowly, he turned to Logan, nailing him with a glare. "Don't tell me you're down with this?"

"I wanna get these guys." Logan shrugged.

"Oh, for—" Scott started then trailed off, turning to Xavier instead, "Professor—can't you just scan the place? Find these men?"

"You think we haven't thought of that?" Fury started before Xavier could reply, "The club's capacity is 350 people, and it will typically accommodate 1,500 people in its nightly five-hour span of operation. Reading each and everyone's random thought in the particular moment Charles gets to them is beyond redundant—it is futile. I need men with good instincts, and sharp eyes and ears, and…" suddenly he trailed off.

He looked at Charles and the headmaster nodded.

"Scott… does the Name Jack Winters ring a bell?"

Tensing, Scott went ice cold.

"Should I take it as a yes?"   

"…he's just a petty thief, what the hell does he have to do with anything?" Anger, then confusion flitted across Scott's troubled face.

"We sent Romanoff to snoop around and she came back with the name. We believe he's associated to a radical anti-mutant group calling themselves The Purifiers. We've been keeping an eye on them but couldn't link them to any hate crimes, not directly anyway."

Scott nodded stiffly. They heard the name before.

"It is possible he's their middleman. Will you recognize Winters if you see him?"

"No. I was blind when he took me in. For all I know he could be a human in his forties or a mutant in his eighties."

"I see. How about his voice? Will you be able to recognize that?"

Scott's spine tensed and his fists curled, making the vocal affirmation superfluous. Warily he said, _"Yes."_

"Then I'm going to need you in there. Is there a chance he'll recognize you?"

"I don't know… maybe. People think I'm blind when I wear my shades indoors, he could make the connection."   

"Yeah, thought you may say that. And if you don't wear them?"

"Then you'll be dealing with a lot more than five missing men." Scott said without humor.

"Not necessarily." Fury signaled one of his agents and the woman handed him a briefcase.

He laid it across Xavier's desk and opened it with a soft, double click.

Inside was a shiny, black collar.

In the men's room, Logan splashed cold water on his face and grabbed for a paper towel. Looking in the mirror, he saw a man come up behind him.

"You alright?" the stranger asked, offering him a flirtatious smile.

In his hurry to get back _Go fuck yourself_ was riding the tip of his tongue, but instead Logan asked "Yeah. You come here often? Never seen ya before."

"First timer, just passing through town on business."

"Right." In spite of the need to shut the seamy environment off, Logan inhaled; breathing in the guy's sweat, hearing the way his heart built up speed. First timer alright, in town for business his ass, and at any rate—not their guy.

He darted his eyes down, to the obvious tan line on the guy's ring finger, then slammed the paper towel into the trash and shoved his way past the man.

"I'm divorced!" he offered another lie behind Logan's back but the feral mutant paid him no attention and wandered out to find Scott.

He told himself that the reason he didn't like leaving Summers alone longer than necessary was because the boy-scout didn't belong here. While the atmosphere of the seediest of joints rolled right off Logan, Scott seemed to fidget from the moment they arrived. Even on the way over Slim kept quiet, staring blankly out his window, upright and aloof. He looked nervous as hell and when Logan touched his arm to get his attention Summers nearly jumped out of his skin;

_'Is that how you're going to react whenever I touch you?'_

_'…sorry.'_ Scott gulped, _'Didn't see it coming.'_

_'May have to do more than just touch your arm tonight, Slim.'_

_'—I realize.'_ Scott quickly said, his back straight, his jaw set tight.

_'Then don't jump like that.'_

_'Don't startle me.'_

Logan exhaled, annoyed, and shoulders sagging Scott promised, 

_'I won't.'_

His lack of enthusiasm didn't surprise Logan; Summers never came across as the touchy-feely type. Logan never seen him hug or even casually touch anyone but Jean, and he expected the boy-scout to feel out of his element—especially considering the amount of attention he was bound to draw to himself. Alone he might blow their cover…

…Logan sighed.   

If he was really honest with himself, he'd have to admit that no—he didn't think for a second that the ever adaptable Scott Summers might betray the truth. Heck, he saw Scott lean on his elbows and flirt back with the bartender but moments ago, and had to close his mouth to keep from betraying his shock.

He possessively dragged Summers away and the bartender's face fell. _'Tough luck—I saw him first.'_ Logan growled, satisfied, then led Scott to an empty booth.

No, if he was really honest with himself he'd admit that he simply hated leaving the depowered and painfully beautiful young man all alone in this joint surrounded by all of these men.

Earlier that evening Scott had turned to him flustered, his back straighter than usual, his shoulders tensed. He's been pacing back and forth all day long, and when he made a bee line to where Logan was smocking his cigar he was certain Summers came to tell him he's calling the mission off.

Instead Scott stared at the rising smoke for a long minute before admitting _'I don't know what to wear… Can't even see the frigging colors—and we're supposed to blend in.'_

And of course… normally Jeannie would have taken care of that. Feeling a little bad for not doing the math himself, Logan wondered when their pretense officially commenced; a couple of unruly bangs fell out of place and his fingers itched with the need to tuck them away, to caress the frowning man's chiseled cheeks and make it all better.   

But all he said was _'Wear what you did when we took the kids bowling.'_

And Scott did.

Instead of his trademark preppy polo and khaki, Scott wore a soft looking blue t shirt and a pair of dark jeans showing his _everything._

He looked too delicious for his own good long before Hank and Wheels took him to the danger room, where he could be safely neutralized. 

Then Scott came out and—

Logan frowned.

Even the queues they saw on Broadway on their way in were shorter than the queue of men leading to the booth he and Scott earlier shared. 

He growled as he started making his way through the crowd, hoping Summers paid attention when Logan instructed to not let anyone buy him drinks. It wasn't just the aspect of staying on an even keel, it was the fear someone might slip Rohypnol to Cyke's drink that made him shove strangers out of his way, none too gently.

Logan finally got his shoulder through the guys surrounding Summers and was able to make a grab for the sleeve of Scott's shirt. "Hey,"

Deep in conversation with an older guy who looked filthy rich, Scott turned towards him, blue eyes wide and dark in the poorly lit club, "Logan!"

A flirty smile still tugged at the full lips and pain twisted Logan's insides—Scott was even more beautiful without his shades, and when he smiled his rare smile it was like having a sunbeam dazzling his eyes—it hurt just to look at him. Suddenly he was at lost for words, suddenly he had to lick his dry lips.

The guy Scott's been talking to frowned, "Can I help you?"

It broke the spell and Logan glowered at him horribly, "You can get the fuck out before you _can't."_

"Should I call security?" the guy touched Summers' shoulder and asked—like _Logan_ had been the intruder, and before he knew it his right claws slid out and his left fist tangled in the guy's top—

 _"—Whoa!"_ the stranger cried and Scott caught Logan's right wrist forcefully,

"That's alright, he's with me."

He gave Logan's wrist a firm squeeze until Logan found himself heeding the unspoken command and sheathing his claws.

"Didn't mean to piss your boyfriend off," the guy told Scott as he pulled out of Logan's grasp and straightened his shirt.

"Well you _did_ piss his boyfriend off," the feral mutant growled at him before addressing the other men surrounding their booth, "any reason you're still here?"

"…didn't think so." He told no one in particular as they scattered like sheep.

"I thought we weren't meant to draw attention to ourselves." Scott said with his back on him, watching them disperse.

"Yeah, well I thought we were meant to make a convincing couple," Logan shrugged while tucking a cigar between his lips, "and that's exactly how I'd react if someone was trying to nail my man."

Scott turned in time to see him hold out a match and puff on his cigar, and still not accustomed to seeing Cyke's bare face Logan almost choked on the smoke.

"Small wonder you're still single." Scott said dryly, the way he always did, but now his uncovered eyes crinkled with mock perplexity and held-back laughter, and Logan was overwhelmed by the dire need to put out his cigar and shove his tongue into Cyke's delicious little mouth instead.     

God damn.

He knew that he was attracted to Summers from day one, big fucking deal. Guy had pink, pouty lips made for fucking, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist begging to be gripped hard, and long sinewy legs that any guy in his right mind would want draped over his shoulders while he folded the lissome young man in two and fucked him through the mattress.

It wasn't like his years at the Northwest Territories made him very picky when it came to his bed fellows, so he didn't make much of it—Scott was just another guy he didn't mind screwing. Besides, it was Jeannie he was after.

Then she died, and suddenly wanting to shove his dick up the grief-crazed boy-scout's perfect ass felt all kinds of wrong, so he repressed it. Found himself befriending the guy instead, and now seeing other men noticing how fuckable Scott Summers was made him want to punch them in the face, defend his field leader's honor.

Not that he could blame them. Scott looked like a Versace model even before Fury's gadget exposed his baby blues for all to see, and Logan decided it was safe to conclude there wasn't a guy in the club that didn't want him, himself included. Months of discipline crumbled whenever he looked into Scott's baby blues.

"So who was that guy anyway?"

"Who?"

"The ugly top guy who shrieked like a girl when I grabbed him." Logan said. It sounded much better than _'the good looking sugar daddy that I wanted to gut because it looked like you were flirting with him'._

"Oh, that was Nick. He's _definitely_ not our guy."

"Oh yeah? Got to know him well?"

But Scott's attention was elsewhere, concern darkening his face, and Logan's jealousy was quickly forgotten,

 _"Summers? What gives?"_ he asked in a whisper, leaning in close.

_"He's staring at me again."_

_"Don't know if you noticed, but half the club's staring at you Slim."_

_"No, this is different."_

But before Logan could ask _different how_ a busboy turned up to clear Logan's empty beer glasses and the neglected virgin mojito he earlier bought Scott.

 _Come here,_ Logan gestured with his head and crushed his cigar to free his hands. After a brief moment of hesitation Scott slid across the bench, his face carefully blank again. Wrapping one arm around Scott's lower back and another around his shoulders Logan pulled him into an embrace so that they could speak freely.

He didn't miss the way Scott tensed in his arms, nor his pleasant, clean scent up close, and wondered for the millionth time if he was being completely honest with himself about his reasons for accepting this mission.

Forcing himself to relax against him, Scott balanced himself with one hand on the bench then pressed his free palm to Logan's chest and rested his head against his shoulder to whisper,

 _"He's been doing it since we arrived, but he didn't make a move—not even after you left,"_ Scott's warm breath tickled his ear, but angry and protective Logan didn't get to enjoy the new found intimacy, _"thing that's bothering me is the way that he glares… I don't know, it's not like he's checking me out …It's like he wants me dead."_

Up until then they were hidden from the said man by the busboy, but he picked up his tray and walked away just as they both looked their target's way, giving away their intentions. Startled, Logan—who was just leaning in to reply, closed his mouth around Scott's earlobe instead, not missing Scott's sharp intake of air or the way his heartbeat doubled in speed.

 _"Been long time for you Summers?"_ he teased before tracing the outline of his ear with his tongue.

 _"Fuck you."_ Scott hissed, unable to do anything about the tender assault but wait it out.

 _"I'm more of a top, actually."_ Logan said, never missing a beat, then, _"—other side."_ And he guided Scott's head to rest on his other shoulder. That way he could press his lips to Summers' neck and discreetly observe their target from over his shoulder.

 _"I'm-- teaching tomorrow, don't you… mark me…"_ Scott panted, his voice hoarse, his heart racing, _"…god damn it Logan, don't!"_

 _"Shh, I'll be gentle, keep it down."_ Logan pulled away from the delicious creamy skin long enough to say, eyes glued to their target.

Their guy looked in his fifties, grey hair square jaw, dark eyes. He really was looking their way, at least until his eyes darted up.

 _"Someone just joined him,"_ Logan let go of the offended spot on Scott's neck and licked it soothingly, Summers' clean scent doing unspeakable things to him, and guess what—looked like he left a mark after all.

_"What are they doing?"_

_"He's carrying something, could be a drug deal… he's getting up Scott, they're taking the stairs. Any idea what's up there?"_

_"Um… yeah, Nick invited me up there."_

_"…Why?"_ Logan's voice had an edge that surprised even him, _"What's up there?"_

_"The backroom—it's a restricted area where men go to… um,"_

_"—Right,"_ Logan said, more than a little jealous that Scott's talk with ugly top guy had somehow led to that, but it wasn't the time. Five mutants went missing and it was up to them to prevent number six.

"Let's." he stood up and offered Scott his hand.

The younger man gingerly took it.

Logan led the way up the wide, curving stairs.

Scott's hand was dry and warm in his, and _damn_ it felt good. Been so long since he got some—a kiss, a hug, not to mention a fuck, that Logan wished it wasn't a mission at all, that they were just two men going to screw in the restricted area of a gay club. That he could find a dark corner, push Scott's tight jeans down just enough to bare his ass, then unzip and use the free lube that was still tucked into his back pocket to discreetly and thoroughly fuck his team leader into oblivion. Alas, it was but a mission, and if Scott could read his mind he'd have called it off on the spot.  

As if rubbing salt Logan didn't miss the approving glances and encouraging nods he received, the dirty fist shakes and smoochy kiss sounds.

It was the damn collar—they all assumed Logan used it on Scott as part of some extreme submission play.

He could hear the remarks, too, and regretted his earlier thought—he'd die before taking Summers in such a rowdy place.

_"Someone's gonna ride it *so* good."_

_"Hope you have a safe-word baby boy, your man looks huge!"_

_"Gonna fuck him doggy style?"_ then— _"Mind if we take turns?"_

 _"Don't."_ Scott warned, knowing Logan well enough to tell he was reaching the end of his rope. _"Just get us in there."_

And Logan used his hold on Scott's hand to yank him close and wrap a protective arm around his slim waist instead.

"That would be all." Someone said in the distance and beside him Scott jerked, _hard—_

_"It's him! …That's his voice!"_

Logan looked up in time to see the white-haired man disappearing behind the velvet curtains into the dimly lit backroom.

"How much?" Logan asked, ignoring the sounds coming from behind the velvet curtains, the way his cock tried taking interest.

Most of the club patron's looked normal enough, but the lady running the restricted area and her two bouncers were more of the 'mutant and proud' type.

"Ten dollars for the restricted area, fifty for half an hour in a private booth." She said, never looking up.

Logan shoved a wade of bills in her face and she finally looked his way, purple eyes racking his face, then Scott's.

"If you're gonna play it rough that's your business—just don't kill him on my shift."

Underneath her podium Scott made grabs for his arm and gave it a squeeze, keeping him at bay.

 _"…'kay."_ Logan forced himself to say through gritted teeth.

"Lucky number seven." She gave him a key. He took it and pressed a flat hand to the small of Scott's back, guiding him forward.

The bouncers moved out of their way, allowing them into the dim room.

They practically walked into a gay porn scene.

Logan's eyes immediately adjusted to the dark, and he waited for Summers to catch up. Feeling the boy-scout tense beside him he concluded it was safe to venture forward.

There were sofas in the large, darkened room, another set of stairs leading to the private booths and a long wooden bar—but it wasn't being used in the conventional way.

There were no bartenders, no TV sets, no drinks… instead patrons used the bar and his stools to be propped against… on top of… some were just making out, others were sitting on the bar stools, legs spread wide while getting blown… not far from them someone leaned against the polished wood while getting thoroughly fucked… threesomes and foursomes were going at it further back…

In spite of it all the room was relatively quiet, but to Logan's heightened senses the sex-noises were deafening—rhythmic moans and erotic whispers, hisses of pain and pleasure, the fleshy sounds of pounding bodies… it made him both wary and aroused. He risked a sidelong glance—Scott's face was blank and controlled, like he couldn't see or hear a thing, except—

 _"There,"_ he whispered, eyes fixated on the white-haired man. He was sitting with the other guy at the far end of the room, both leaning forward as they talked.

 _"Strange place for a meeting… come on,"_ renewing his hold on Scott's hand he ventured closer, until the muffled sounds began making sense.

Bringing Scott to a stop he moved in to whisper, _"I can hear them from over here, but we can't just stand around while I listen in…"_ trailing off Logan nervously ran his free hand through his hair, telling himself sternly that this had nothing to do with the painful way in which his throbbing cock pushed against the fly of his jeans and everything to do with their mission, _"…gonna need you up against that wall."_

Scott pulled away from him, eyes pained with resentment and embarrassment, mouth opened in a silent cry of protest… he looked aside and his eyes met the curious ones of three guys who up until then were all over each other. One of them raised an eyebrow and signaled him over, and Scott clenched his jaw, realizing Logan was right—they needed a cover.

 _"Okay."_ Determination hardened his gaze and he nodded sharply—much to Logan's relief. If Summers, the master strategist, was approving his plan then it wasn't just his hard-on doing his thinking.

 _"…Okay,"_ Logan echoed and licked his lips in a nervous little flick, hoping that he didn't look as hungry as he felt, _"come here,"_ he backed his field leader up against one of the bar stools, closed his hands around the slim waist and helped him up.

Then, taking one for the team, Scott Summers—pretty, unattainable, withdrawn, Scott Summers; the stoic field leader of the X-Men and the guy every man in this club had been dying to nail, parted his legs to grant Logan access to his delicious, wiry body.

Christmas came early in the form of this mission.

Moving to stand between Scott's spread out legs until their crotches were touching, Logan molded his hands against the cotton clad ribs, the fabric soft and warm. He didn't miss the way Scott's breath hitched and a feral smile tugged at his lips. Caressing the younger man's heaving chest he toyed with Scott's quickly hardening nipples, happy to see that he wasn't the only one affected by all this.

 _"You cold, Summers?"_ he teased, hoping Scott's eyes will blaze and his sweet little mouth will pout just… like… _that—_

It sealed his fate. Logan yanked him close and fused their mouths together, ignoring Scott's shocked gasp, the way he froze in his arms. He traced Scott's sculptured lips with his tongue and they parted in a breath of surprise, allowing him to plunge deep into his mouth, feverish with desire.

Scott was moaning, out of shock or protest Logan wasn't sure, but it vibrated against his lips and his cock painfully twitched and swelled.

Grabbing Scott's spread out thighs Logan pulled him closer, increasing the friction as he grinded their groins together, and overcoming the initial shock Scott opened his mouth wider to let him in. Logan began to gently lick Scott's tongue in a steady, erotic rhythm, steady enough for him to shift his focus to his surroundings. He tangled his hands in Scott's hair to keep him perfectly still as they kissed and honed in on their target,

_'I'm not doing anything before they pay us.'_

_'—they already bought the cure, you have any idea how expensive that shit is? They're not bailing out.'_

_'And I'm not risking 20 to life until I see the cash.'_

All along Summers' hands were braced against his shoulders, but of course he didn't push him away—trust the boy-scout to put the mission first.

_'We said we'd stop at five, leave the States.'_

_'And they said they'd pay us double—are you in or out?'_

Denying himself for too long, Logan's attention split evenly between the secret meeting and their make out session. His hands found their way into Scott's shirt, and this time when he caressed Scott's nipples with his thumbs the younger man shivered and arched his back. Still, it was hard to tell just how engaged Scott was amid all of the strong scents and noises that filled the dark room. Curious, Logan ran a hand down Scott's built chest… washboard abs… past his belt and fly… until he was cupping the hard, hot, massive bulge in his jeans. _Oh, yeah._

_'We agreed because they were a safe bet, friends of his. We don't know the new guys—what if they don't pay us?'_

_'Then we blackmail them. Offer them the parent of the year award.'_

Logan began stroking Scott through his jeans, long, knowing tugs slowly building up speed, guided by the way Scott uncontrollably moved his hips against his spread out palm.

_'Sounds like trouble to me.'_

_'More like easy money, but hey—if you want to go back to pimping young boys and pickpocketing tourists that's your call.'_

They were kissing all along, he was listening all along, the mixture of danger and lust making him painfully hard, impossibly wanton. He was so horny and lonely and God knew that he wanted so much more than sex when it came to Scott, but he was happy to settle for giving him a hand job as part of their cover—it sure beat sneaking longing glances his way during a private, late night danger room session, then jerking off in the shower all by himself.

He began sweeping a thumb over the head of Scott's cock on every upstroke and panting, Scott tore his mouth away and pressed his swollen lips to Logan's ear, _"Don't make me come!"_

There was something urgent, borderline hysteric in his voice and Logan immediately released him, pulled him into a hug instead no matter how badly it hurt, how fast his heart sank at the reminder they were just pretending, it was only a mission.

 _"…n-not…"_ Scott panted, _"…not in… h-here… not… like this…"_

 _"Yeah... Okay..."_ Logan's eyes widened in surprise. Relieved beyond words he leaned in and tenderly brushed his mouth across Scott's, ignoring the lust that coiled low in his guts, the desperate need for release that tortured his balls. Scott's words suggested that he wanted to do it properly and right then it was more than enough.

 _"Got anything?"_ Scott asked against his lips, still breathing hard, his hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt against each of Logan's broad shoulders.

 _"Got everything, lucky number seven in deed. You coming?"_ Logan stepped back and offered Scott his hand.

This time there was no hesitation in Scott's grip.

Scott leaned against the locked door while Logan dialed the number Fury gave them.

The sleazy private stall was lit in red, making his last moments of being able to see in full color feel very much like wearing his visor anyway, but so was life.

"Nick?" Logan asked and Scott tilted his head, thoughtful. Earlier that day he nearly called the mission off, afraid he'd embarrass himself beyond telling by pretending to be Logan's lover… But he knew it was selfish, and so when Logan looked at him quizzically through the smoke billowing from his cigar Scott mumbled something about not knowing what to wear.

He had no doubt going undercover would require some level of physical intimacy and that he wouldn't be able to hide his feelings from a feral mutant with heightened senses under such circumstances, but ruining their newfound friendship was a small price to pay for saving the next victim's life. Secretly, he began bracing himself for the heartache the moment Fury left the mansion.

Then Hank and the Professor had him depowered and Scott walked out of the Danger Room feeling so damn… vulnerable.

Not only did he lose his powers but suddenly everyone could look him in the eye—which meant absolutely everyone did. It was easy to tell he was giving away more than he intended without his visor—too used to hiding behind it, his pokerface ability weren't that great and he dreaded the undercover mission more than a hundred gone bad sentinels.

But something happened to him tonight, something he did not expect… wearing casual clothes, looking normal, going out with someone he really liked… it felt like a date, and Scott was kind of having fun. Even the sleazy club with its obvious sex agenda had its appeal and Scott was amazed to find he was feeling… well, flirty. Sexy. A lot of guys were checking him out and Logan acted protective and jealous and Scott loved every minute of it… it almost felt like he had a boyfriend, like he wasn't so damn lonely anymore. At the same time he was also nervous as hell, afraid he'd slip, make his feelings for Logan known, ruin what little they had… he avoided touching the other man unless there wasn't any other way about it, but when Logan sat him down and stood between his spread out legs there was no mistaking his massive hard on. Scott wasn't sure if it was the club's doing or his—until Logan kissed him. He couldn't remember the last time anyone made him feel so damn… wanted. Made him so damn hard.

He was still feeling it, unfulfilled desire making him irritable and oversensitive, making him all too aware of Logan's presence... but turned on as he was, he couldn't stand the thought of coming in his pants in some dark backroom during a mission. That wasn't what he'd been saving himself for since her death, and it sure as hell wasn't the first memory he wanted to have from what he hoped was his future relationship with Logan.

 _Ha,_ he couldn't help his crooked grin; it was the last thing he'd ever imagined himself wanting, but after her death Logan was the only thing keeping him together and before he knew it his gratitude turned into affection… then desire.

Stranger than fiction, but true.

"Okay, see you there in five." Logan hung up.

"Let's," Scott said, but Logan didn't seem inclined to move; a storm had been brewing in the hazel depths… then suddenly the feral mutant crossed the room in a couple of big strides until he was towering Scott, their faces inches apart.

Still aroused Scott gulped hard, hoping the other man was going to kiss him…

…but Logan looked angry, his eyes blazing, his breath ragged and uneven.

"…Hey?" Scott asked his troubled team mate. Summoning his courage he gently cupped a stubbled cheek. Stroked Logan's face back and forth with his thumb.

Logan narrowed his eyes, tempted to lean into the touch… but then he shook it off like a dog, eyes hardening again, "No. Tell me Slim, 'cause I don't know whether to hand this guy over to Fury or go out there and slay him where he stands!"

"What are you talking about?"          

"He recognized you. Said he saw one of his boys downstairs."

"Oh." His heady arousal drained all at once. Instead his heart began painfully thundering in his chest.

"I also heard them talk about Winters pimping young boys… and you had a pretty strong reaction to the name back when Fury brought it up," Logan's voice was low, his eyes blazing, his veins bulging, Scott couldn't remember ever seeing him this angry, "he ever touched ya that way Summers? Ever made you do things you didn't want?"

Feeling that his voice might betray him, Scott shook his head no. For all of his wickedness, and to Scott's good fortune—Winters never pimped minors, probably too afraid of the heavy penalty. Jack made him do other things that Scott wasn't proud of, use his powers in ways he'd rather forget, but at least sexual assault wasn't part of his otherwise messed-up childhood.

"…You sure?" Logan looked damn alert and Scott had no doubt that he was using his powers to determine if Scott was telling the truth, and that he really would kill Jack if he wasn't …not that Scott awfully minded him dying, but right then he just wanted to get out of there, gain his powers back,

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Logan stood there for another long moment before he nodded, appeased.

"Good," and he began leaning in, giving Scott plenty of time to stop him, until they were kissing again… gently, softly, in a private room, regardless of the mission.

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me that the parents hired Winters to kidnap and 'cure' their kids?"

"That's what they said, bub. Inject them with the cure, then mess with their heads to 'correct' their tendencies. Explains why they're off Cerebro's map too—Chuck's been searching for mutants all along."

"Where are they now?"

"That they didn't say, but I think we gave you enough reasons to go get them, ask them yourself."

"If only it was that simple." A shadow passed over Fury's face as they sat in his black SUV, Scott already dunning his shades, the collar long gone.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Means one of S.H.I.E.L.D's seniors is somehow related to The Purifiers." Scott supplied and Fury tugged at his collar uncomfortably. "Only question is why get you involved?"

"I don't know. Maybe things got out of hand, maybe sense was knocked into him and now he wants his kid back. At any rate… I think it goes without saying that I will need for you gentlemen to keep this to yourselves."

"You're not gonna do anything about it?!"

"Oh, I will do plenty. But something much bigger may be at risk here, something that runs deeper and goes back further than you can imagine, and I have to insist that you leave it to me. You're off the case."

"We follow Chuck's orders not yours—"

"One and the same my friend. Go home, I believe you will find Xavier is happy to drop the case."

"And these kids?"

"I promise you I will see to them… and I appreciate your work, maybe we could collaborate again in the future—"

Scott didn't mind Fury taking over; for all of their disagreements he trusted the man would save these kids, but Logan looked furious,

"—don't count on it bub. May be a lot of things, but a conspiring spy ain't one of them." Angry, Logan got out of the car, and nodding his farewell to Fury, Scott followed suit.     

An agent of S.H.I.E.L.D waited for them outside the club, ready to drive them home, but Scott hesitated, heart sinking fast. The guy who reflected from the car's shiny black windows looked blind and serious, and a lot older than the pretty blue eyed boy who stared back at him from the bathroom mirror mere minutes ago. No one in that club would turn his head after his sorry mutant ass now. It sure explained why Logan has been acting so aloof from the moment they left Fury's car.

Then again, maybe Logan was still mad at Fury? Or maybe anything to do with the government made him nervous for obvious reasons? Only Scott couldn't help but wonder if the feral mutant had been acting up because he regretted everything that took place between them.

One way to find out…

"You know," he told Logan quietly, his mouth dry, his palms wet, "We got what we needed… we could stay a while longer."

"No." Logan's eyes searched his blasted ruby glasses. Somehow the feral mutant always found and held his gaze, "Not like that, not in here. Let me take you someplace nice?"

"Make it special?" Scott cynically asked, certain he was being mocked, but Logan simply said,

"Yeah."

"…kay." Scott mumbled, stupid tingly butterflies making his stomach feel funny, his lips and mouth feel dry.

He entered the car and leaned against the window, admitting to himself that this was their wackiest mission yet… and his favorite one by far.

Looking out the window and blindly searching the adjacent seat, he found and held Logan's hand all the way to Westchester.

 

The End


End file.
